


We Have All the Time in the World

by RoseCathy



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseCathy/pseuds/RoseCathy
Summary: When Rimmer’s ship brings him home, he gets what he’s always wanted. To Lister’s dismay, that doesn’t seem to be enough.(I have given up trying to fill in the missing bits. If the timeline seems choppy, that’s why!)





	We Have All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Janamelie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/janamelie) and [Felineranger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger) for letting me use their fics as jumping-off points.

Rimmer was not familiar with the old-world adage that eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves, and even if he had been, his curiosity would have suppressed any misgivings.

It wasn’t right that this other, shinier version of him, with his deep voice and smarmy hair-flips, had come crashing into their dimension _again_. It wasn’t right at all that he and Lister spent long, cosy hours together, just as they’d done during the previous visit. No, no, what was he thinking? This Ace wasn’t even the real Ace, but some second-rate substitute who now wanted Rimmer to “take over”. The whole situation was smegged up beyond belief. He had to investigate; the safety of the crew might be at risk for all he knew.

Instead of bursting into the room like he wanted to, he switched to soft-light and carefully positioned himself in a corner.

“…I see,” Ace said hesitantly, wide-eyed under his fringe.

“It was smegging fantastic.” Lister leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “I mean, it had been ages, but it wasn’t just that, y’know what I mean?”

“I can imagine.”

“You could do better than imagine.”

“What do you mean?”

Rimmer had to strain to hear Lister’s next words. “I know, with the power leakage, it wouldn’t be the same…but we could try a couple of things.”

_Try what?_

Rimmer instinctively brought his fist to his mouth, fortunately in time to stop himself gasping, or perhaps screaming, at the display that confronted him: Lister stood and threw his arms around Ace. His hands roamed, now into Ace’s hair, now down his neck, now underneath - 

_So that’s how it is._ The thought hit Rimmer over and over as he fled. As soon as he was back in his quarters, he put a hand up to his face — his touchable, hard-light face, the same as Ace had. Except it wasn’t the same, was it? It could never be the same. His face wasn’t the one Lister was glued to at this very moment, or the one that had made Lister come alive after years of languishing.

He peered at his reflection in the mirror. The glimmering H on his forehead brought one word to mind: _Hideous._

***

During the first few weeks back on Red Dwarf, Lister walked through as much of the ship as he could, tasting all that the new and improved vending machines had to offer as well as the freedom to stretch his legs and get away from the others. After years of being trapped on Starbug, being alone had become his dearest fantasy.

The joy faded along with the high of his long bender when he settled down in his new quarters. Intuition had told him to go back to the old bunk arrangement instead of taking a single room, and although he felt increasingly foolish, spending night after night contemplating the empty bunk below his, the strange feeling of anticipation persisted. Something was bound to happen, he was sure of that. His choice would prove right in the end.

One quiet, ordinary evening, when he’d just opened his second can of lager, it happened.

He didn’t know why he ran so quickly toward the shiny-suited (though not swishy-haired) figure. Nor did he think beforehand about what he did next: He launched himself at Rimmer, squeezed him just long enough to drink in the scent of the familiar aftershave, then kissed him.

As first kisses went, it was tentative — very sweet, but tentative, not much more than a delicate touch of lips and a shared breath. Lister wasn’t bothered; this was just a prelude as far as he was concerned. The moment they parted, he looked up into Rimmer’s eyes ( _Beautiful eyes,_ he remembered) and came to terms with what was happening. “I’ve missed you.”

Instead of replying with the expected _I’ve missed you too, Listy_ , Rimmer drew back as though he’d been burnt. “This was a bad idea.”

Lister disagreed. This was what he’d been waiting for, even if he hadn’t been able to identify it until now, even if Rimmer’s reaction wasn’t all it ought to be. In fact, he looked - if it was possible to be happily surprised and terribly disappointed at the same time, he looked like that.

He took a further step backward. “She thought it might do me good to ‘confront my demons’,” he laughed humourlessly, inclining his head toward Ace’s ship.

“Demons?”

“Forget it.”

“What demons?”

Rimmer glowered at Lister, clearly resenting having to answer. “The fact,” he ground out after a long pause, “that I wasn’t your first choice, or your second.”

“What are you - ”

“The fact that you never gave me a thought even though I was always there. I doubt that I would have been the third or fourth, either.”

Lister gulped as he realised what Rimmer was referring to. So he knew about Ace, both Aces, but how? No, this wasn’t the time; Rimmer looked ready to bolt out of the room and fly a thousand dimensions away. “Listen,” he began desperately, “don’t leave me again. Not yet.”

“How can I leave you?” Rimmer replied softly — tenderly, it seemed to Lister. Maybe his sincerity had shown through, and Rimmer understood how he felt, and they could - 

“I was never with you.”

It wasn’t tenderness he had heard. It was resignation. “Don’t say that,” he whispered. He impulsively stepped closer, close enough that they could tumble into each other’s arms if they wanted. 

“What do you want from me, Lister?” 

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I want you to stay. With me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Look, I know you might not want to give up being Ace.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?” Lister was aware that he was beginning to sound like a petulant child, but he could hardly give up now. “Look, would you really be okay, knowing that you had a chance and didn’t take it? You can’t tell me you never get lonely, out there with only your ship for company. Unless…” He paused. It was possible he was wrong on that count; Ace had a reputation to uphold, after all.

Rimmer held himself stiff and upright as if to discourage Lister from pouncing on him again. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll stay. But I’d like to do this properly. Formally, if you like.”

“What, like…go on dates, that kind of thing?”

“Yes.”

Okay. Okay. He could do that. It would be a small price to pay. “All right.”

There seemed to be nothing more to say. Lister silently led the way to his ( _their,_ he supposed) sleeping quarters. As soon as they got in, Rimmer threw himself onto the lower bunk and fell asleep, still in his Ace guise. Lister couldn’t blame him; he felt exhausted too, somehow.

-

 _Just like old times._ The thought had first entered Lister’s mind for the first time when he’d woken up to see Rimmer sat at the table, his forehead and his torso gleaming as they used to. A fond smile creased his face whenever it came back. Of course that wasn’t strictly accurate; they both had more lines on their faces now, and more outlandish memories than they knew how to process. Nonetheless, going up together the Observation Dome had turned back the clock in a way, back to when they’d started really talking to each other. For now, Lister didn’t mind that “talking” consisted of recounting the events of the past year; more personal conversations would come later.

At the door to the sleeping quarters, he whirled around to face Rimmer. “I guess this is the part where I ask you if you’d like to come in for coffee.”

Rimmer raised his eyebrows. “It’s as much my place as yours.”

“It’s been mine longer.”

“Anyway, that would be moving rather quickly, don’t you think?” Before Lister could reply, Rimmer strode inside and toward the sink, ending the discussion.

_So much for that._

  


Lister bestowed a quick toothpasty smile on their reflections. One of them at the sink and the other changing for bed — while the scene was unremarkable, it had been ages since it had last played out. There was a certain comfort in resuming their routine of old.

Rimmer, never one to get too comfortable, kept glancing up as he undressed. “Lister, stop gawping at me.”

“I’m not,” Lister protested, splattering the mirror with water.

“You might not be doing it on purpose, but you’re looking.”

“Sorry. But, I mean, would it be so bad if I did happen to see something? Wouldn’t exactly be new, would it?”

“I know, I know. It’s just, I don’t want to be all…”

“What?”

“On display! Ogled, like we - I don’t know.”

Lister considered this. They’d shared a room for most of their adult lives, had dressed and undressed together thousands of times without self-consciousness, even lived in each other’s bodies. And yet…maybe Rimmer was right. Something _had_ changed, and the stakes were higher now.

He sat down next to Rimmer on the lower bunk, close enough for their thighs to touch, and silently marvelled at the shared body heat. “I won’t gawp at you. It’s just, from time to time, I might see a few things. You know? I mean, unless one of us moves out.”

He just barely resisted the urge to smack himself. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage Rimmer to put even more distance between them. Thankfully, Rimmer only said, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Good.”

“Well…good night.”

“Yeah, good night.” Lister wondered if he should go for a kiss. Before he could decide, Rimmer turned his head and called, “Lights!”

_So much for that._

-

Lister vaguely remembered dates at the cinema in his previous life. It had been simpler three million years ago: the darkness, the popcorn, the surreptitious arm-draping. Twenty-minute arguments with his date over the choice of movie had not been part of the experience.

“What about this one? _Droids and Prejudice. Two service droids find themselves swept up in a passionate illicit love affair when their employers become business partners._ ”

Rimmer wrinkled his nose. “ _Droids?_ Having a passionate illicit love affair? I’d have thought they’d be too fixated on their mops for that.”

“It could happen!”

“Well, it doesn’t really appeal.”

“Picky.” Lister hit the “Random” button again. “Hey, here’s something. _In the Distance. Two boyhood friends reunite as old men and realise that they have unresolved feelings for each other._ Could be good.”

“I don’t know. It sounds dreadfully sentimental.”

“Oh come on, man, we’ve been at this forever!”

“Fine,” Rimmer conceded with a sigh. “But I’ll choose the next one myself, no questions asked.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lister dreaded to think what kind of film Rimmer would go for; probably a mind-numbing five-hour war epic. On the other hand, his nonchalant talk of _the next one_ was very promising indeed.

They settled down in the middle of the cinema with the popcorn between them. As the opening titles burst onto the screen, Lister shifted into a comfortable half-slouch and let his head droop toward Rimmer, who didn’t appear to take any notice.

On the screen, two boys who looked rather like them — one lanky, the other shorter and apple-cheeked — ran across a road. The camera zoomed out to reveal a cobbled street -

“Yowwww!” The Cat’s screech seemed to shake every chair in the room. “Hey, popcorn!”

Lister hastily paused the movie. “We’re a bit busy here, Cat.”

Cat tilted his head quizzically. “Why should that stop me from getting popcorn? Besides, you don’t look busy. You’re just watching a movie.”

“Yeah, watching a movie _together._ ”

“So?”

“I mean alone. I mean…”

“What he means is that you need to leave,” Rimmer interjected curtly.

Cat narrowed his perfectly made-up eyes at Lister as he re-assessed the situation. “That is just wrong, buddy. That is all kinds of wrong. I mean, why him?”

“ _Cat._ ”

“I’m really offended! I mean, think about it! You could have had - ”

Rimmer stood abruptly and snatched up the bowl of popcorn, miraculously without spilling any. “I’d like to go back to our room.”

“Yeah, you read my mind.” Lister jumped up as well. As they left, he made sure to shake his head sternly at the Cat one last time.

  


Rimmer aimed a disdainful look at the pile of tissues between them. “It wasn’t _that_ romantic.”

“Why not?” Lister sniffled.

“Well, look at them. They only managed to get it together when they were about a hundred and ten.”

“So?”

“So imagine them trying to do anything together. They couldn’t possibly concentrate over the sound of their bones rattling around.”

Lister snorted with laughter into the soggy tissue he was holding. “It can’t be that bad.”

“What if they had a fall?”

“They? What, both of them at the same time?”

“It’s quite plausible.”

Lister tried to picture himself and Rimmer seventy years down the line. They might look similarly aged, but they would be quite different inside. Perhaps Rimmer would have to handle him like a delicate china teacup lest hard-light strength be too much for his ancient, rattling bones. Perhaps anything more strenuous than a peck on the forehead, even holding hands or cuddling, would be off the menu. He shuddered. “Well, I’m glad we’re not a hundred and ten yet.”

“I don’t know what age I am anymore.”

-

“Hey.” Lister poked a finger into Rimmer’s shoulder. “You’re snoring.”

The noise was like air escaping from a balloon, except slowly and at precise three-second intervals. Lister shook his head in amused despair. This was the person he’d chosen to share a bed with, someone who snored well-regulated snores. Chuckling, he leaned over to press their foreheads together.

Rimmer let out a little gasp and a snort. ”What?”

“Sorry. Only me.”

“Oh.”

Lister grinned as he took in the sight of Rimmer with dishevelled hair and sleep-heavy eyes. “Aww,” he whispered. “Come here.”

Instead of burrowing back under the covers as Lister wanted him to, Rimmer continued to lie stiffly on his side, staring into the space between their bodies.

“Erm, you okay?”

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Eh?”

Rimmer shrugged. “I woke up, and there was this arm around me. It was a surprise, that’s all.”

Lister tried and failed yet again to get Rimmer to meet his eyes. “Well, was it a nice surprise?” he asked, gently rubbing Rimmer’s back.

“I suppose.”

 _I suppose._ Not _Yes, Listy, it was lovely, which is why I’ve decided that this is how we’ll sleep from now on,_ no indication that he was happier for having spent the night in Lister’s company. “Right. So…fancy doing it again?”

“I suppose.”

Despite Lister’s best efforts, a heavy sigh escaped his lips and drove invisible shards of ice through the balmy atmosphere they’d created together during the night.

“Oh, and…” Rimmer propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at Lister with narrowed eyes. “Did I hear you say something about snoring?”

“What?”

“I seem to remember you telling me I was snoring.”

“How the hell did you manage to hear that? You were asleep.” Lister rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Weren’t you?”

“Perhaps the words got through because it’s an outrageously false accusation,” Rimmer sniffed.

“I’ll record you next time,” Lister retorted, then hesitated. _I suppose. I suppose._ “I mean, assuming there is a next time.”

“We’ll see.”

-

He combed carefully through the curls, mentally dividing them into neat sections. As he did so, his fingertips met several patches of grey, small enough to escape daily notice but easy to see from his vantage point, and each one striking enough to cause a little pang. He bent and kissed the one nearest the left ear, then another closer to the top of the head.

The arms around his body stiffened. “Lister.”

He kissed the wisps of white at the hairline. “I like these,” he whispered.

“Lister,” Rimmer said again, slightly more loudly. “Don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s - I’d rather you left those alone.”

“Oh.”

“I see them every day in the mirror, you know. I’m fully aware of the fact that I’m not thirty anymore. You don’t have to rub it in.”

Lister picked up on the sad note in the snipe. “I mean,” he reflected, one hand still moving soothingly in Rimmer’s hair, “I don’t think it’s all bad, growing old together. Shows how far we’ve come, doesn’t it? All these years, it’s been me and you.”

“Has it,” Rimmer challenged, so softly that Lister wondered whether he’d been meant to hear it. He opened his mouth to meet it anyway — of course it had been the two of them, together all this time — but the defeated words rang in his ears: _How can I leave you? I was never with you._

In the end he said nothing, just held Rimmer tighter to his chest in an effort to chase away the guilt gnawing at his heart. Rimmer took that as his cue to close his eyes and settle his head more securely.

Lister had missed the feeling of someone falling asleep in his arms like this, all relaxed and…if not full of joy, then at least content to entrust themselves to him. He lay awake longer than he’d wanted to, listening to Rimmer’s slow simulated breathing and looking over the grey hairs again.

-

“Listy?”

“Mm?” Lister shifted a bit so that Rimmer could nuzzle his shoulder.

“I wish I could put you in my pocket.”

“What?”

“Could carry you around…always have you with me.” 

The amusing image of his pocket-sized self disappeared before it could fully take shape. Rimmer had already fallen asleep again, as evinced by his snores. The magical moment was over. 

In these precious minutes between waking and sleeping, Lister could reconcile his fantasy with their reality. By the time they had their daily pre-getting-out-of-bed kiss — at his insistence, “to start the day off right” — that comfort was no longer within reach. It was all very well for Rimmer to snuggle closer and murmur sweet nothings while half-asleep; once awake, he carried on as he always did, acting like he was following instructions. X number of kisses per day, Y amount of cuddling per day, as much as was deemed acceptable and no more.

Lister was floating in a sea of new-relationship bliss, but Rimmer usually wasn’t there with him, only watching from the shore. It didn’t seem fair to either of them.

-

Lister couldn’t remember whose idea it had been to have a picnic in the captain’s quarters. It was a nice idea, nice enough that he hummed old love songs as they made their way there, arm-in-arm.

_We have all the love in the world_

_If that’s all we have you will find_

_We need nothing more…_

The room was a change, certainly, from the grunge of their own section of the ship. He had kept his thoughts about the most prominent feature to himself. What he felt when Rimmer lowered him onto the large, comfortable bed was - it would have been an extreme understatement to call it “pleased”. He was aroused, frighteningly so, and he didn’t care if the sounds he was making betrayed his utter desperation.

_We have all the time in the world_

_Just for love_

_Nothing more, nothing less_

_Only love_

“Should I - ”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, keep going, it’s - ” Lister whimpered as Rimmer lowered his head and began to bite at his neck. He raised his legs higher, gripped Rimmer’s arms harder. It wasn’t long before he was eagerly pushing himself down. He didn’t just want to feel it, he wanted to hear it — skin slapping against skin, wetness squishing obscenely between them — because this was _it_. This was what they’d waited for. Rimmer had wanted Lister, had been so consumed by want that he’d tried to flee from it forever. But that didn’t matter anymore. They were together; they were doing this. Lister was going to give Rimmer everything he wanted, absolutely everything, even if it hurt. Even though it hurt. Because it…“Hurt me,” he gasped. “You can hurt me, it feels so good, please.”

It felt even better when he was pushed harder into the mattress, hard enough for bruises to form on his arms. Waves of agony and ecstasy broke over him in turns, then he was babbling, “I missed you so much, you know, so much, I’m so glad you came back,” and he was there - 

“Lister?”

“Yeah?” Lister panted. He opened his eyes and looked up into Rimmer’s face, which was pink and awash in…irritation, it looked like.

“How long have you been lying there?”

“What?” His elbow met the cold metal of a clipboard. _Oh._ He wasn’t in the captain’s bed; he was in the hold, surrounded not by pillows but by boxes labelled _Spam_ and _Freeze-Dried Turkey Twizzlers_.

“I was hoping you’d have this lot finished by now.” Rimmer’s mouth formed a thin line of disapproval. “We did plan to have dinner together, or have you forgotten?”

Lister cleared his throat as if that could flush the heat out of his cheeks. “No, no, I haven’t. I just - sorry. I’m just knackered.”

“I suppose I’ll have to stay here and help you if we’re to eat before midnight.”

“Sounds good to me.” Lister took Rimmer’s proffered hand and pulled, a bit harder than he needed to, so that he fell forward against Rimmer’s chest. Rimmer let out a soft startled noise, although he didn’t seem to mind Lister resting nearly his full weight on him. “Oh, Lister,” he sighed into the top of Lister’s head. “What are we going to do with you?”

 _I’ve got some ideas._ Lister couldn’t help pouting when Rimmer gently set him back on his heels and bent down to pick up the clipboard. Inventory was now even less appealing than before; from where he was standing, he could see half a dozen places where they could sit and cuddle awhile, or lie down, or press up against each other and just…

Rimmer was tapping a pen thoughtfully against his lips, absorbed in the bureaucratic minutiae of which he was so fond. For a few seconds, Lister let himself imagine those lips put to another use.

It was too late. The moment had passed.

-

Lister temporarily forgot to breathe. Rimmer’s hand wasn’t doing anything particularly exciting, just stroking up and down his ribcage, but the heated path it left on his body, the intimacy of it, had caused his heart to jump into his throat.

“Why have you got so thin?” Rimmer asked, almost to himself.

“Hm?”

“You’re all skin and bones here. I don’t remember it being like this.”

Lister’s smile at what looked to be genuine concern on Rimmer’s face faded as quickly as it had appeared. The innocent curiosity about his body was sweet; the lack of knowledge was sad, an indication of how long they’d been apart.

He shifted so that they were closer, almost touching noses. Rimmer jumped a little and withdrew his hand. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I - ” Lister swallowed hard. He wasn’t exactly a novice at initiating sex. He knew it was what they both wanted. Why was this so difficult? 

“What is it?”

“Keep touching me.”

Rimmer’s eyes opened wide.

“Just…whatever you want. I want you to - here.” Lister took Rimmer’s hand and placed it back on his body, then leaned in for a kiss. “Keep going.”

For once, Rimmer took the hint and did more than keep going. Lister arched eagerly into every new touch, moving this way and that to help Rimmer as he fumbled with buttons. Hardly had he shaken off the last bit of clothing when he found himself falling back hard onto his pillow, overwhelmed by sensation.

It was over all too quickly, embarrassingly so, but Lister grinned through his efforts to gulp large amounts of air. This was no fevered dream. His reddened skin, the sweat on his forehead, the sheets wrinkled from his thrashing — it was all real, so real, and it was theirs to cherish.

Rimmer didn’t appear to share this view. He lay on his stomach, face mostly buried in the mattress; all Lister could see of it was one eyebrow and a temple.

“Are you hiding?”

“No.”

“You are!” Lister giggled, more shrilly than he’d intended. It had come as a great relief to him that Rimmer wasn’t made of stone after all. “Come on, what about you?”

“What about me?” Rimmer turned enough for Lister to see that his expression was neutral. Aside from a slight flush, there was no sign of what had just happened.

 _We have all the time in the world…_ “I think the first thing we should do is get you more comfortable.” Lister slid a hand under Rimmer’s shirt and caressed the smooth skin of his stomach. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, it’s a bit weird, me being naked by myself, you know?” It was time to make his meaning clearer. He moved back slightly, then rested his forehead on Rimmer’s chest and let his hand wander downward.

Rimmer’s whole body tensed up. “It’s - it’s all right,” he stammered. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Lister laughed incredulously. The idea that he saw this as some sort of obligation was absurd; his mind was going wild just imagining Rimmer’s reactions. “I want to do something,” he purred. “Everything. I really do. I want you.”

The smile slid off his face as Rimmer bolted out of bed and backed into the table. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to - I thought - sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

It wasn’t all right, judging by the way Rimmer was fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Are you - are you sure you’re okay?”

The slow, uncomfortable response took ages. “It’s not what you think. It’s not that I don’t want…I just…”

Something about the way Rimmer was looking down at the floor, hands fixed at his sides, was frightening to Lister. “What’s bothering you?”

“I just, I don’t want to get used to it,” Rimmer blurted out in a rush.

_What?_

“What are you talking about? Why not?”

After an apparent internal struggle, Rimmer shifted his stance awkwardly and spoke again. “Because all this is…it’ll be over.”

_Over?_

“I don’t understand,” Lister said hesitantly, attempting to put his thoughts in some semblance of order. “What do you mean, it’ll be over? Are you leaving or something?”

“Well, yes. I wouldn’t want to stick around for longer than necessary.”

He still didn’t understand. _Longer than necessary?_ Necessary for what? “You’re not…you can’t be serious. Are you that unhappy?”

 _He misses playing the hero. Of course he does,_ a treacherous little voice inside him piped up. _He was probably having a good time before his ship started to give him strange ideas. Who are you to keep him trapped on this crate?_

“I’m not unhappy.”

“If you’re counting the days - ”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Rimmer cut in gravely. “I am happy — when I’m with you. But I don’t expect it to last.”

Lister’s heart sank. “What? Why not?” he demanded.

“Look…you like not being alone, for obvious reasons, and you like having someone to keep your bed warm. At the moment, I am that someone.”

“‘At the moment’?”

“Even so, I doubt you’ll feel the same way once the novelty wears off.”

Lister thought he saw a brief flash of tears in Rimmer’s eyes before they were raised to look at him. He realised then that his own eyes were wet as well. “Is that what you think of me?” he whispered. 

“Listy.”

“You think I’ll - no wonder you’ve been - you’ve set us up to fail right from the start!”

“Listy,” Rimmer said again, more firmly. “I haven’t set us up. This is just how it is. I’m not ecstatic about it, but it’s like you said — the alternative would have been not taking the chance, never knowing. If this is what I can have, all I can have, that’s - okay. Only I’d rather not have too many vivid memories to deal with later.”

Rimmer was saying these things so calmly (Lister wondered if he’d imagined the tears), as if they were fact, as if he hadn’t just destroyed Lister’s perception of their relationship. To add insult to injury, he was even wearing the smug half-smile he put on when he believed himself entirely in the right. For his part, Lister found that he was clenching his fists.

He had been so secure in the knowledge that Rimmer loved him. Every time he ran into the emotional barrier between them, he’d reassured himself that he would break through one day, because Rimmer had loved him for years and with a desperation unmatched by anyone else in the universe.

Hadn’t he?

_You thought you were his perfect fantasy. You thought you were what he waited for all his life. How up yourself are you, man?_

“You’re wrong,” he blurted out.

“Sorry?”

“I said you’re wrong,” Lister repeated defiantly, unsure whether he was addressing Rimmer or the mocking little voice. “As usual. And I’m going to prove it.”

Even as he spoke, he remembered Lise Yates, and Rimmer’s devastated face. _I don’t want to feel like this anymore._ Rimmer in his bunk, broken-hearted. _I don’t want this feeling anymore. I want my own memory back._ Was that all their time together was going to be, a painful memory to repress later on? Lister drew the sheets around his body, not out of self-consciousness; he felt cold, cold and alone.

He barely noticed Rimmer returning to the bed. The sudden warmth startled him, but he instinctively moved toward its source until he was wrapped snugly in Rimmer’s arms the way he liked. Liked? He loved being held like this, loved this closeness, and…

“Love you,” he whispered. The words felt warm and right on his lips. “I love you,” he whispered again.

Silence. He looked up warily. Rimmer was staring at the wall, jaw clenched, unaware of what had just been said.

  


It was morning when Lister stirred from his sleep, reached out, and found the bed empty beside him.

Groggily, he rolled off the bunk and pulled on some clothes before he went to join Rimmer on the sofa.

“Hey.” Lister nudged him. “Have you been up all night?”

Rimmer inclined his head about a millimetre.

“I wish you’d stayed.” When that failed to get a reaction, Lister brushed a thumb across Rimmer’s chin. “I like waking up with you.”

Suppressing a sigh at the silence, he just looked at Rimmer, taking in every detail he could. Just in case.

“Er, what are you doing?”

“Looking at you.”

Rimmer’s ears glowed bright red. “Why? You know what I look like.”

Undaunted, Lister continued to stare. “Yeah, but this is - it’s in a different context, innit? I’ve never really _looked_ …you’re just gorgeous, you know?”

“I suppose you say that to all the girls.”

“I don’t, actually,” Lister murmured, still lost in admiration; he’d barely registered Rimmer’s dismissive tone. What intriguing eyes, what lovely soft lips. “And you’re not a girl, anyway.”

“Hmph.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t call just anyone gorgeous.” Lister tapped the H on Rimmer’s forehead. “Not unless they had one of these. Definitely one of the requirements.”

“Really.”

“And they’d have to, let’s see…have a side parting, and be a total smeghead as well, so I’d say you’re well ahead of everyone else on the ship.”

Rimmer frowned at him. “Why all these silly jokes?”

“That’s what all the magazines say, right?” Lister adopted a pompous tone: “ _Be with someone who makes you laugh!_ ”

“I wouldn’t know.”

He felt a twinge at Rimmer’s sombre expression. “Though in your case, it’s been more like _Be with someone who makes you cry._ ”

Rimmer looked as stricken as Lister felt, but only for a moment. “You’ve been reading too much Astros Weekly,” he said lightly, with feigned obliviousness to the raw emotion in the air. 

“Rimmer…”

“You know, you don’t have to try so hard.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t need to lay it on so thick.”

“I’m not ‘laying on’ anything, I’m trying - ”

“To prove me wrong. Yes, you said.”

“No, you prat, I’m trying to tell you how I feel!” Lister exclaimed in frustration. “But what’s the point if you won’t listen to a word I say?”

They were at the precipice again, fighting to hold onto what they had — at least, Lister was fighting. He didn’t know if Rimmer was, and that hurt more than he could express.

“I am,” Rimmer said eventually. “I am listening.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Listening isn’t believing.”

Lister threw his head back. He would _not_ let - whatever this was defeat him, defeat them. “You’re you. Not just a - a warm body that I’m using.” He hated even saying those words. “Can you believe that?”

“Maybe.”

_That’s a start._

-

Lister held McCartney up to the light, then slammed him down on the worktop a few times. There was nothing wrong with the insides; they just needed a kick-start.

He dropped the fish as strong arms snaked around his waist. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed in the sensation.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Rimmer said apologetically. “I thought…”

Lister ignored the unspoken next words — _…I’d try it once before I left._ “What else have you always wanted to do?” he challenged, turning around and drawing himself up so that their eyes were almost at the same level.

***

Rimmer leaned against the console and exhaled. There was really very little maintenance to do, unfortunately for him; not that Lister tended to pry, but he felt he had to give a reasonable explanation should he be asked what had taken so long.

His neck itched in places, and his lips felt slightly sore even though they should have recovered by now; perhaps his subconscious was holding onto those sensations on his behalf, because every time he remembered, a shock of wild happiness coursed through him. He would have enjoyed it more if it weren’t followed by unease. 

It had been good, not quite like the wild romps he tended to dream of, but good, at least for him. For Lister, it had probably been nothing that could be categorised as “smegging fantastic”. Some experience playing Ace couldn’t rid him entirely of awkwardness. It was just as well, since - 

“Hi.”

Rimmer scrambled to pull himself up straight. “Listy,” he squeaked. “I was, er.”

“Maintenance again? I didn’t realise an inactive ship needed so much work.” Lister’s voice was similarly high-pitched, like he was struggling to keep his tone neutral.

“Yes, well.”

Lister folded his arms. “Except it’s all an excuse, isn’t it? This is your escape hatch, and you’ve been keeping it in working order. ‘Maintenance’ — I can’t believe I fell for that.” 

Rimmer stood still, looking directly into the hurt he had caused. _Go on, then,_ he dared Lister silently. _Just say it. Tell me you can’t do this anymore. I’m ready. I’ve been ready from the start._

But Lister didn’t say anything of the sort. He reached up to put his hands on Rimmer’s shoulders. He raised himself up on his toes.

Rimmer hated himself for melting into the kiss, and for the way he gasped in delight when Lister ran his hands over his chest, and for the encouragements falling uncensored from his own lips.

He hated himself for giving in yet again. The previous night, he’d told himself _just once, just this once_ he wanted to know how it felt, that he’d perhaps be able to cope with _just one_ blissful memory. _It might even be helpful,_ he’d lied to himself in the moment, _when you’re alone again and unimaginably far away and miserable._

He was hopeless.

-

“You shouldn’t shirk your responsibilities, you know,” Lister said, eyes trained on the controls above the pilot’s seat.

“Hm?”

“Your mission, directive, whatever…it’s to keep me sane.”

“Ah. Right.” 

“Don’t think you can get out of it so easily.”

Rimmer turned to look at him. “You just want me to…keep going. Without any escape hatch.”

“Yeah.”

A series of precisely spaced staccato knocks startled them both. “Mr Lister, sir?” Kryten’s voice had more than a note of panic in it. “Mr Lister?”

“I’m in here, Kryten!” Lister called back hastily. “Call off the skutters, or whatever you’ve - I’m here.”

“You never miss breakfast,” Kryten said plaintively. “You can’t blame me for panicking, sir.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Your eggs are going cold.”

“In a minute!”

Rimmer laughed to himself. In a strange way, he had missed this. Actually, he hadn’t; that was one of those platitudinous thoughts some people felt they ought to have. But he wasn’t about to use Kryten’s mother-henning as an excuse to leave, either. He was too comfortable where he was next to Lister.

***

“Have you seriously woken me up just for this?”

“Well, yeah.”

Rimmer rolled his eyes, not quite managing to hide his amusement. “Get on with it, then.”

“Nice. Very romantic.”

“Lister, shut up and get on with it.”

Lister got on with it. He straddled and pushed and writhed until he was on the verge of madness while Rimmer watched his face in wonder.

“You’ve got another one,” he informed Rimmer afterwards.

“Another what?”

Soft fingertips brushed a patch of hair to the right of the side parting. “Here.”

More grey, then. “Must you point out every strand?” Rimmer asked, slightly petulant.

“Cheer up, Rimmer. At least you’re not a hundred and ten.” Lister yawned against his chest. “No maintenance to do today?”

“No,” Rimmer replied, his annoyance all but drowned out by the pleasantly fast whirring of his light bee. “It can wait.”


End file.
